


How Stiles Almost Torched a Witch

by Drawing_stories



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Derek is a Failwolf, Humor, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 09:23:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8050897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drawing_stories/pseuds/Drawing_stories
Summary: This just really wasn't his day. Week. Whatever. First he almost broke his hand on stupid failwolf's stupid beautiful face, then he was laughed at by Scotty, and then, to make things worse, he almost torched a witch.





	How Stiles Almost Torched a Witch

**Author's Note:**

> Believe me dear bros, this won't be good. At all. So prepare yourselves for bad grammar, even worse humor and worst of all: bad writing. Sorry can't help it I''m just really self depricating and stuff and started writing this because I'm stressed as hell and fanfic looks like a nice distraction.

It was a few days after the fiasco of the dread doctors and the great big flip out about how they were going to kill a beast literally bigger than a car. Well, the size wasn’t really the problem, the real problem was how the beast could crush Stiles’s head like a grape, and eventhough Stiles didn’t think he had that beautiful of a face, he was still quite attached to it, thank you very much.   
The days after killing la bete, Stiles was studying in the library and swearing loudly at all of the things he had missed while in the middle of the crazy scientists problem. He was frowning at his economics homework and chewed restlessly on the markers in his mouth, sometimes switching the plastic tube in his hand for one in his mouth. His papers started to look more fluorescent than the blacklight party they had organised in Derek’s loft, and frustrated Stiles threw his one marker down and capped the rest of them and shoved them angrily in his pencil case. Slamming his books closed and ignoring the weird looks the other students gave the gangly teen, he threw his stuff in his backpack and walked away from the table while zipping the bag shut agressively. With a big throw he slung his bag on his back, and paced the library out. He rubbed his hands against his face, a habit he’d picked up from his dad. The last few days were finally calm, filled with Scott pining over his absent girlfriend and Lydia bitching about her clothes as usual. He had broken up for real with Malia and the werecoyote was still acting awkward around him, which made Stiles even more awkward and spastic than usual, and he got quite the looks for it. Liam was being disgustingly fluffy with Hayden, and so was Mason with Corey. Stiles sniffed haughtily. Fucking couples and their fucking gross making out in the middle of the cafeteria. And meanwhile Stiles was just stressing about his slowly slipping grades and thinking about how everything was well about the world. The only good thing he got out of Kira leaving was that Scott came over for their old geek nights again.   
Swearing when he tripped over the edge of the pavement the lanky boy took out his keys for his old and not-so-trusty Jeep, and jammed them in the door and yanked it open. First he threw in his bag and then his body followed. He put the keys in the ignition and drove away from the little place called hell on earth, otherwise known as school. 

 

“Dad? I’m home!” He yelled when he came in the living room, and looked around for signs of his father walking around the house or other signs of life. Nothing. He shrugged and walked towards the kitchen after dropping his stuff on the sofa, and pulled open the refrigerator. He took out the orange juice and poored a glass full of it, drinking slowly from his glass while walking upstairs and turning on his computer. Stiles sighed, and pulled his homework out again, this time making it with the help of the wonderful invention Internet. He managed to stay focused for the whole fifteen minutes of working intensely, but then his hand started tapping against the table top, and then his knee started bouncing, and then he got totally tracked off by this really interesting wiki article about the history of prostitution. And suddenly it was three hours later and the sun started to sink above the suburbs of Beacon Hills, and Stiles was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of his phone ringing obnoxiously. Spasming about he searched for his phone, knocking over a stack of papers and almost falling off of his chair. When he finally found his phone beneath his economics homework and a lot of scrap paper doodled full with his thoughts, the ringing had stopped. Frowning he scrolled down on his call history and found the most recent one, left by his dad. One voicemail. Stiles pressed on the ‘listen’ button, and put the screen next to his ear.   
“Hey Stiles,” the voice of his dad started, “It’s a long day at the station, so I’ll probably won’t make it for dinner. Can you make something yourself? Take care son.” After that a long beep followed and Stiles shut his phone off. He sighed. Then the lanky boy stood up and rubbed his hand slowly through his brown hair, and walked down towards the kitchen. He looked at the once white surface of the clock that hung upon the wall and groaned when he saw that it was already eight o’clock. He checked the fridge and sighed when he saw that the only edible things in it were a banana and a suspiscious looking bottle of pickles. He picked up his keys and sent a message to Scott that he was going to get curly fries and if he wanted to come with him. Satisfied he turned his phone off when he saw his wolfy friend’s positive reply. He slammed the door behind him closed and walked towards his car. He revved the engine and then drove away to his salvation.  
He was driving over one of the main roads in Beacon Hills when he suddenly startled. He had been tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and listening to the police radio when he saw a black flash running over the road. Startled he yanked the steering wheel to the side and almost ran himself on a tree, but he stopped the car to look behind him. The road behind him was dark, speckled with circles of light from the yellow burning lanterns on the side, and the white stripes on the road seemed to gleam bright underneath it. Stiles turned around better, but he didn’t saw the ominous black flash he saw just a few seconds ago. Then he turned around again slowly and looked at his pale hands wrapped around the wheel, pale against the worn black. Carefully he turned the key in the ignition and listened tot he car start again. Maybe he had halllucinated and just had a weird knee jerk reaction from the happenings a few weeks ago. Quickly he turned around again, just to be sure that he didn’t hallucinate. His breaths were coming quicker, and his heartbeat was drumming in his ears, adrenalin shooting around in his veins.  
“Holy shit!” The black flash was shooting around again, and this time he was sure it wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. He threw his foot down on the gas pedal and drove away as fast as he could. 

 

He was nervously chewing on his curly fries when Scott walked in with a big dopey grin on his face, brown eyes twinkling, but slowly dimming when he smelled the chemo signals coming off of him. He probably smelled like a teenage drama drenched with pale vampires or something. The alpha strided towards him and dropped his helmet on the table next to his coke, and then the wolf plopped down on the seat in front of Stiles.   
“Stiles, has something happened? You reek of anxiety.” His friend sounded really concerned, and Stiles felt his stomach turning around itself, the fries in his mouth suddenly tasting stale on his tongue.   
“Scotty, I think something has arrived again in our good ol’ Beacon Hills.” He said solemnly. Immediately his words took effect on his friend and he saw the teen before him deflate. 

“So… You just saw a black flash?” Scott asked sceptically after Stiles had told him the anekdote of how he had almost hit a tree because of the black flash. The mole spotted boy felt irritated by his friend’s response, and looked with a bitch face at his friend.  
“A really erratically moving, did I mention fast, black flash bigger than me? Huh? Whatcha think ‘bout that?”   
“I think you need to sleep more.” His good for nothing wolfy friend said while looking pointedly at the bags underneath his eyes,.   
“I don’t need to sleep more, I need to know what that thing was!” Angrily Stiles stood up while leaning his hands on the table top, and shrugged his jacket on and walked out of the diner.   
Twenty minutes later Stiles was fumbling with his keys in front of his door, walked in and saw how his dad was asleep on the couch. Sighing he threw a blanket over the snoring man and walked up the stairs again toward his room. He just wanted to throw himself on his bed when he spotted something in the corner of the room. His anxiety flared up high again and he startled when the black blob in the corner started to move. He waited. And waited a little bit longer. And when the blob finally came in his reach, he struck out with his fist and clocked the blob in what he hoped would be the face. He was rewarded with a smarting fist and a satisfying thwack!  
“Stiles, what the hell?!” Stiles was confused.  
“Derek?!”


End file.
